


Say Hello to Goodbye

by dreadwyrmspawn



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Armchair Therapy, COVID-19, Cabin Fic, Cuddling, Current Events, Don't look too closely at the science, Emotional Constipation, Freudian Elements, Hurt/Comfort, Hypnosis, Listen I don't RPF but Fucking Cockles Man, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Sigmund Freud Would Love These Two
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:02:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29691294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadwyrmspawn/pseuds/dreadwyrmspawn
Summary: There will come a day when you have to say “hello to goodbye”---Jensen’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard on his phone screen.Of course,yes. It was such a stupid way to phrase whatever Misha was dancing around. And that was where the rock sat in his chest.Do you trust me?Jensen still didn’t want to dignify the question with an actual response. Eleven years— and he was getting tip-toed around. Stupid.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Danneel Harris, Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins, Misha Collins/Vicki Vantoch
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Say Hello to Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> ( obviously this is fiction and i don't claim to know the true nature of jensen and misha's relationship. i do however know what it's like to be forced to change life paths in the middle of a global pandemic; so honestly this is just cathartic for me.)

_ >Do you trust me? _

The offending SMS had come in almost thirty minutes ago, and Jensen had intentionally left it on read. He was sitting on the sofa, his head tilted back as he stared at the ceiling of his living room. His phone abandoned on the cushion next to him as the apocalypse sirens wailed inside his skull. 

He was vaguely aware that Zepp was terrorizing his sisters with a nerf gun; all three of them snowed in from last night’s storm. The thought of him getting off his ass and shoveling the fresh powder so he could send them outside crossed his mind. It would at least give him an excuse for leaving his best friend on read for any amount of time.

Across the room he heard the shuffle of house slippers against the wood floors and let his head fall to the oncoming sound. His wife rounded the corner into the living room, a glint in her eyes that let Jensen know he was in trouble before she even spoke.

Years ago, he would have thought Danneel just had a sixth sense for whenever Misha texted, talked, or thought about him. But over time he came to the conclusion that the duo were usually scheming well ahead of Jensen ever being roped into their chaos.

He sighed and scooped up his phone before she had a chance to and slipped it into the pocket of his sweats.

“Are you going to do anything about all this snow?” She asked as she stopped in front of the large windows that looked out over the back deck. Both her hands were planted on either hip, toe tapping against the hardwood.

“I was going to get to it,” he said— because he was. Even if it was his new least favorite activity. The push snow plow made freeing the vehicles easy enough, but of course that still meant he had to shovel the deck by hand. And it took forever, as the deck wrapped three fourths the way around the house. 

“Before or after you text Misha back?” She looked back at him over her shoulder, fiery locks tumbling down her back. The smallest, slyest of smiles tugging at her lips. Her conspiratorial actions weren’t even hidden anymore. Jensen was  _ definitely _ in trouble later, be it by his wife’s or his boyfriend’s hand he wasn’t quite sure yet.

“After,” the word came out of his mouth like a question to a jeopardy answer. He nodded to punctuate it, like it was his final answer. The answer that would get him off the hook from both of his partners.

“Thought so,” her smirk melted away into a soft smile as she joined him, leaning over the back of the sofa and kissed his cheek, “he’s going through a lot.”

“We’re all going through a lot,” Jensen corrected her, as if he needed to do so. Apparently not, because the only reply that got was a thump upside the head.

“Hey!”

“He sounds really stuck in his head, Jen, please text him back.”

Jensen nodded and dug his phone from his pocket. “Yeah, I know.” He said as he swiped the messaging app open. Because he did know. They were all stuck in limbo as the show came to a close. There were no celebrations that would have sent everything off with a bang. The pandemic stealing every goodbye and congratulations from the whole cast and crew.

And the fans. Jensen knew that hurt Misha the most, because it hurt him the most too. That was half the reason he ran off to the mountains with his family in tow. To put a million miles of mental and physical space between him and any thoughts that lingered. Words left unsaid.

Jensen’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard on his phone screen.

Of course, yes. It was such a stupid way to phrase whatever Misha was dancing around. And that was where the rock sat in his chest.  _ Do you trust me? _ Jensen still didn’t want to dignify the question with an actual response. Eleven years— and he was getting tip-toed around. Stupid.

_ >>Yes _

_ >Oh good because I already booked your plane ticket _

The sirens went off in his head again as he read the text a million different times in the span of thirty seconds. He had never smashed the call button so fast in his life. Screw texting. This conversation clearly needed spoken words.

“Plane tickets?!” Jensen screeched into the phone as soon as the line clicked open, not waiting for any form of hello.

“Yes,” Misha’s voice came through stuffy and groggy, “your plane leaves at 10 tomorrow, I sent Dee the itinerary.”

Of course he did. Scheming.

“And where am I going?”

“Here.” “There.” Both Misha and Danneel answered at the same time. His eyes narrowed on his wife and she shrugged before trudging up the stairs to stop her girls from murdering their brother.

“Mish, what the fuck—” He cursed, unable to really form any thought that was even sort of coherent. His brain was screeching so loud at him.

“Dee said your quarantine doesn’t start for another two weeks,” Misha said as if he was pulling the thoughts from Jensen’s head like a taffy pull, “I just need you here. For awhile.”

Jensen’s heart immediately sank into his stomach at the stressed punctures of the word need. “Mish,” it was all but a whisper into the phone. Plane be damned, Jensen tried to will his being through the 5G signal to be able to crawl next to wherever his partner was, “are you OK?” Clearly not. But he still needed the confirmation.

“I will be,” Misha tried to sound light, the self deprecating chuckle that forced its way through the phone told Jensen all he needed to know.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” This was ridiculous. 

“Yeah.”

“Mish?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

* * *

Jensen stepped out of the arrivals door that corresponded with the number Misha had texted him. The airport was empty (thank you, COVID-19,) and it was easy to spot each other in the less than crowded terminal. Misha climbed out of the driver’s seat to help with his luggage, and Jensen was able to catch sight of Misha for the first time in… well way too long.

Zoom charity calls and private face times did not count. To be able to finally lay eyes on him, in the flesh, sent a hurricane of emotions through him. The elation that came with hauling Misha into a death grip of a hug— social distancing be damned. He felt as if he were strapped to a roller coaster at Six Flags inching toward the freefall. He pulled away enough to catch the blue eyes for the first time, and every fiber in his being tensed at the sight. Dark bags weighed down the normal full-of-life expression. Death danced in those eyes, there was no light.

“Hey,” A whisper cracked over Jensen’s lips as he reached out to yank both their masks down, laying a soft kiss on the other man’s cheekbones, before stealing his lips as well. The other’s lips twitched, mustering all the will they could to return the kiss, “I’m here now, it’s OK.”

Misha nodded and let his head rock forward to knock against Jensen’s shoulder. “Missed you,” he muttered into the down feather alternative before stepping away to throw Jensen’s bag into the trunk. Jensen caught the sight of another bag, but let it go for the moment.

“Move along!” A security guard shouted at them as he approached.

Jensen rolled his eyes, there was zero traffic around them. They shrugged at each other, and snickered, the sound warming Jensen’s core. Perhaps their old rhythm was not lost.

Jensen slid into the passenger seat, noting that the heated seats had already been turned on. The warmth seeped into his flight stiff muscles and he melted into the leather with a contented hum.

“You always take such good care of me,” Jensen said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. It seemed to work, as the blue shifted in Misha’s eyes.

“Can’t help but want to spoil you after so long apart,” Misha shrugged as he pushed some buttons on the car’s satnav, it coming to life and flooding the cabin in a blue light.

“Where are we going?” Jensen asked, realizing there was no way Misha needed Google Maps to tell him how to get to his house from the airport he flew out of at least a dozen times a year. Hell, Jensen could probably navigate that route unaided. 

“A retreat, of sorts.”

His brow raised as he echoed “of sorts” in an alarmed question. Not that Misha going to a retreat sounded off, but he had never brought Jensen on one. It was either by himself, or he and Vicki. His pulse quickened, and it felt like his heart lodged itself between two of his ribs. 

“It’s at a campground,” Misha explained as he pulled away from the curb, “to keep couples easily socially distanced.”

Jensen nodded as his fists balled on his lap, trying to push the anxiety out of his chest and air into his lungs instead. “Is that safe?” 

Misha let go of the wheel with one hand to set it on Jensen’s fist, which uncurled just enough to grab at the long fingers, “if you don’t want to we can just go home, too. I— I’m fine either way.”

“No,” Jensen’s voice was barely over a whisper as a shaky sigh followed the word out of his mouth, “no, we’ll do your hippie bullshit.” Jensen relaxed his fist, threading his fingers with Misha’s tortured ones.

“It’s not bullshit,” Misha defended in a mock hurt tone, “I know it works.”

“Yeah?”

Misha’s thumb traced nonsensical patterns across the top of Jensen’s hand, “Vicki and I did it a few months back.” His voice trailed off at the end, but Jensen ignored it, more pressing thoughts screaming through his head. Bullshit he wasn’t exactly keen on.

“Is it meditation? Do I have to give up my phone?”

“Not technically,” Misha said as he stressed the word with a tilt of his head, “but yes it is a technology free space.”

Jensen hummed, “and Dee knew this?”

“Yeah. I mean they still have an emergency contact number if for some ungodly reason she would need to call you.”

“Why do I let you drag me around blindly?” Jensen sighed as he forced his head backward into the headrest.

“Because you love me,” Misha offered with a gentle squeeze of his hand, “and you said you trusted me.”

“I do, and I do for some unforeseen reason.” Jensen said as he dropped his head to Misha’s shoulder. 

The man smelled like dirt and sawdust, and Jensen let his eyes fall shut as he daydreamed about what handyman work Misha got up to before he picked him up. Misha was always busy with something, he needed the things to force him to press pause. Jensen had pressed pause months ago and ran away— as his fans had affectionately termed it— to become a mountain man. But Misha, like everything else in his life, dove head straight first into political fights and attempts to fix a broken America. It exhausted Jensen the little he helped out, and he didn’t do much at all. No wonder Danneel said Misha seemed stuck in his head.

And Jensen was an ass for not realizing it himself, he decided.

* * *

Jensen was scrolling through the website for the retreat on his phone.  _ Lavender Springs _ was a “place for couples to rejuvenate themselves through the power of the Self.” When Jensen rolled his eyes he thought his eyes were going to pop out of his skull from the force. 

Couple therapy. It was couple therapy. And the guilt was burning in his chest all over again. In the decade they had been at this not once had it crossed his mind to talk to a therapist with Misha. He and Danneel had, because she believed any healthy relationship required mediation. And of course she was right. He had talked about both Misha and Vicki in these sessions. But with Misha? Not even once.

His phone dinged as a text banner appeared across the top of his phone. It was Vicki.

_ >Flight land alright? _

_ >>Yeah, thanks. I didn’t realize your husband was kidnapping me and taking me to the woods _

_ >He’s just romantic like that _

_ >>No promises I won’t kill him before these 10 days are up _

_ >Please just keep him in one piece for the viewing _

_ >>I’ll try to remember that _

Jensen chuckled to himself, her dry wit being his favorite trait. He was content for the moment, his emotions more or less settling in the wake of the last hour’s storm.

_ >>Mish said he went to this place with you, how’d it go? _

There was a long string of silence, the blue ellipses hanging on the screen for too long.

_ >It went really well. We learned a lot about the problems the pandemic has caused for us: at the house, with the kids, and ourselves. He’s been excited to do this with you, but knew he was basically going to have to trick you to do it. _

_ >>He should know by now he doesn’t need to do that with me _

_ >Yeah, that’s what I told him. But you know how he gets strung out on his big emotions sometimes. _

_ >>Danneel said something similar to me before I left “stuck in his own head” _

The text dinged again but Jensen dropped his phone in his lap and put his head in his hands. He pressed his fingertips hard into his temples trying to stave off the headache that was beginning to form. Misha’s free hand once again met him, rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades. A sigh broke out of his chest, followed swiftly by a yawn.

“Tired?”

“Maybe a little.”

“You can take a nap, Jen, I won’t be offended or anything.”

“I know.” Jensen looked at the satnav, according to its calculations there were still 47 minutes until they reached the retreat. “Vicki texted me, said this helped you guys last time.”

Misha nodded as his fingers began to walk up the notches Jensen’s spine created in his back. The large hand spread wide to press small circles into the soft spots behind his ears, the tension disappearing from his head. 

“You recognize a lot when you’re holed in with each other, even after twenty years.”

“So it’s the COVID experience on steroids then.”

Misha chuckled, “I suppose, more or less.”

* * *

“Do I have to come in with you?” Jensen asked as he peered out the windshield at the registration building. 

“No, why?” Misha asked as he opened up the car door and slid off the seat.

“I’m going to call Dee before I have to give this up for the next ten days,” Jensen said as he brandished his phone in the air. The only response Jensen received was a roll of those baby blues before leaving him alone in the passenger seat.

“Hey,” Danneel’s voice came through the phone in a soft sleepy tone. Jensen felt the rush of guilt wash into him as he realized the cabin fevered kids had done a number on her. She was a strong mom, but everyone had their limits.

“That bad already?”

A honeyed laugh broke through her, music to his ears, “It’s not nearly as bad as you’re thinking.”

“That’s good, it would be a long week if they already conquered the house.”

“Did you guys make it?”

“Yeah, Mish is checking us in now. Speaking of whom, after I murder him for making me go through this I am coming home and taking out any co-conspiritors as well.”

“Aw, come on now. You’ll have a blast.”

“I’d rather have my teeth pulled.”

“Pulling feelings out of you is basically the same thing, hon.”

“Wow. That hurts.”

She hummed and Jensen could swear the shrug of her shoulders was audible, “you’re a big boy, you’ll survive.”

Jensen caught movement through the car window as Misha began to walk back toward the car, cabin keys in hand.

“Babe, Mish is done so I’m going to have to go now,” he sighed, even if he hated it now perhaps a cellphone detox would be good for him in the long run. “I love you, so much.”

“Love you, too. Keep your mind open, Jen.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jensen muttered, “bye, babe.”

“Talk to you soon.”

* * *

Not that he expected anything extravagant, but the cabin turned out to be the size of a studio apartment. The bedroom separated from the living space by a partitioned wall; and the kitchen seemed to lack any real counter space but still managed to be stocked with any food they would need.

“Cozy,” Jensen sighed as he rolled his bags into the bedroom area. 

“Well, it is a cabin,” Misha teased as he followed after Jensen, bumping into him quite quickly in the small area.

Jensen turned around to face Misha, his arms easily finding a place to settle around Misha’s waist, “I wasn’t being negative.”

“You sighed. Heavily.”

“It wasn’t heavy! I’m jet lagged, give me a break.”

A smile played across his face as he pulled Misha in, closing off any last space between them. Misha smiled back, but it was forced. The blue eyes didn’t dance, and there were no laugh lines to melt Jensen’s heart. The pain and emptiness Jensen had tried to ignore in the car had blanketed them both. It was almost suffocating. He hated this dark hole Misha had dug in around them, and was sure as shit going to do whatever it took to yank them both back out.

Their foreheads tipped together and Misha’s eyes slid shut as Jensen began to sway gently back and forth. “Don’t look at me like this,” Jensen kept his voice soft and gentle to match his movements, “I’m here for you, I won’t be going anywhere.”

“I know.” Misha’s voice broke small and scared and everything that Jensen knew Misha wasn’t. It shattered his heart at their feet.

Misha’s hands settled against Jensen’s chest as his head came down to pillow against them, following the gentle swaying willingly. Jensen’s heart was racing, and he knew Misha could feel the fast thrumming against his fingers, but Misha said nothing. The strings from the tender touch keep them tied together in all senses, both physical and emotional. Jensen won’t even dare himself to pull away, and part of him knew Misha couldn’t will himself in the moment.

His heart was twisting in on itself, the pain consuming him as he continued to rock his boyfriend in the small space. It was all too heavy, and Jensen could feel the anxiety start to crawl up his neck.  _ You just promised to fight,  _ he reminded himself as his nerves started to twitch, wanting to find anything to busy himself and stuff the raw emotions to the side. They could wait until whatever therapy was coming, right.

“Mish,” Jensen kept his voice low as he shook the other man loose from his chest and hooked a finger under his chin to make their eyes connect. Misha did not want to, as the blue eyes looked off to the bed at their side.

“Alright, fine,” he huffed in a mock defeat as he worked his hands under the heavy leather coat and pushed it from Misha’s shoulders. He stripped away both of their winter layers so they were standing in their t-shirts and jeans. 

“What?” Misha prompted in response to Jensen’s face scrunching together.

“You know I am not laying down in my jeans,” Jensen said as he wormed out of the offending denim before reaching for Misha’s waistband, “and you’re not either.”

Misha kicked out of the jeans as Jensen crawled across the bed. There was a thick down feather duvet covering many layers of blankets, the bottom one significantly heavier than the others.

“Is this a weighted blanket?” Jensen asked as he burrowed under the covers.

Misha hummed and followed suit, “yeah, they help with anxiety.”

“I know that,” Jensen stressed as Misha curled into his side. His heart rate had begun to slow back down to an acceptable pace as he felt the tension wound in his chest melt into the mattress.

“Are you still tired?”

“A little.”

Misha buried his nose into the crook of Jensen’s neck, his head falling to the side on instinct— to where their comfort and cuddling always had rooted itself in the past. Jensen shifted next to Misha, the bodies turning and curling until limbs were tangled and the question of who was laying on top of who was unanswerable. 

Long fingers traced nonsensical patterns around Jensen’s hipbone, sinking him closer to sleep than he was initially aware. A yawn passed over his lips and his eyes slipped close, attention fading in and out to the deft fingers.

“Don’t let me sleep too long, or I’ll be up all night,” Jensen murmured into Misha’s hair and he was out.


End file.
